Coveted
by HarlequinEnigma896
Summary: She belonged to the point man, and the forger didn't stand a chance.


**__****Hey, everybody! It's been a while since I've published anything here, I know. I've been working on a million different stories, but I haven't really decided which one to give my full attention to. In spite of that , I decided to write a brief story for Inception, which I completely adore! **

**_I'm going to be totally honest, I ship Arthur/Ariadne pretty intensely, but this idea just came to me and I had to write it out. I haven't seen any Eames/Ariadne stuff yet, either, so this one will be the first!_**

**_I hope you enjoy! I'd appreciate it greatly if you'd be so kind as to leave a review after reading. Thanks!_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Inception. _All characters belong to Christoper Nolan, I'm just playing around with them.**

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**Coveted**

She was not his; not only that, but she never would be his.

Eames had to admit that he was shocked when he first felt his heart beat more quickly in her presence. Ariadne had seemed inconsequential at first; true, she was the architect (possibly the most important job of all), but at twenty years old, she was barely even a woman. She had been naïve when they'd first met, so unaware of the countless possibilities that dreaming held, and so unaware of the dangers.

If he was speaking on a strictly physical level, of course it made sense that he was attracted to her; she was lovely. Her gently curling chocolate hair, dreamy hazel eyes, and full red lips all made her greatly pleasing to the eyes. Eames couldn't deny that he'd thought before of trailing his fingers over her milk white skin, dragging them lower and lower until she was gasping in pleasure.

However, if he was speaking about her personality, her mind, he had no idea why he was so fascinated by her. She was an indisputably brilliant girl, always searching for meaning in everything, but she was the exact opposite of his "type." Eames preferred his women sultry and experienced, the kind of woman that wouldn't flinch at even the crudest sexual suggestion; more than that, he liked when a woman made sexual suggestions of her own. He preferred someone bold and regretless, someone who never stopped to look back; someone that was not Ariadne.

And yet, she managed to distract him with her lithe figure and her expressive voice. Some days, she made it hard for Eames to work. She and Arthur would be going over one of her labyrinths, or discussing the pros and cons of whatever it was; he never quite heard their full conversations…at least, not everything that Arthur said. He heard Ariadne's every word, saw her every smile.

Unfortunately, however, he also noticed every touch that passed between her and Arthur. In the presence of others, they tried to be subtle; elbows touching when they sat next to each other, playing footsies, a hand on the other's knee, that sort of thing. It was only when they thought everyone else was busy that they would behave like lovers. More than once, Eames had seen the two of them together in the back room of their new hideout. He would walk past, peeking in through the slightly cracked door. God, it was sick that he'd resorted to spying on them (he hated himself for it), but he couldn't stop watching. Every embrace, every kiss, every moan that fell from her lips weighed heavily in the air, hitting his skin like poisonous rain, seeping in and cutting him at the very core of his being, reminding him just how foolish he had been to fall for the architect.

All of this led up to one night. Eames was sitting in the small office space of their hideout, his feet propped up on the desk as he read through the file of their latest mark. He had been drifting in and out of focus, his mind wandering every few minutes to the beautiful young woman and the man in the lawn chairs, sharing a dream together.

After moments passed, Eames could hear voices. He sat up in his chair, leaning over the desk in order to hear the full conversation.

"Why do you always bring him into your dreams, Ariadne?" He heard Arthur question quietly. _This_ was interesting.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to. I just see him so often that he just sort of…shows up. It's nothing, Arthur, I promise." She answered in a pleading voice.

There was a brief but heavy silence that loomed throughout the building. Finally, Arthur heaved a sigh.

"Just clear your head. It's bad enough to have him taunting me every day; I don't need it when we're dreaming together." He said in a casual tone.

"I know,"

"Get your things. I need to make a quick phone call, but I'll be waiting for you by the front door, okay?"

"Okay."

The conversation ended there, but Eames had heard all he needed to. He waited for the sound heavy footsteps that announced Arthur's departure before he set down the files. He stood from his seat, moving to the door in time to hear Ariadne's soft steps carrying her to the back room.

As he slipped out of the office, his heart began to pick up speed. What if it really _was_ him that occupied her dreams? What would it mean for him? For Arthur?

Eames knocked softly on the door frame, announcing his presence. Ariadne spun around, her eyes wide. Clearly, she had been unaware that he'd been in the building the whole time.

"Evening, sweetheart." He greeted, stepping into the room.

"Hi, Eames." She returned, placing a hand on her chest to steady herself. "I didn't know you were still here."

"Oh, I've just been studying up on our latest mark." He replied easily. "Why are _you_ still here? And where is beloved Arthur?"

Ariadne seemed to falter at his inquiries. "I-I…was just…he-"

"It's alright, Ariadne. You don't have to answer." Eames told her, moving closer. "I just wanted to know what was on your mind."

"Oh, it's nothing. Arthur and I were just…talking." She responded, plastering a small smile on her face.

"I heard. I didn't know that you'd been letting me into your dreams. No wonder Arthur's been so irritable lately." He said in a lightly teasing tone.

This, however, was no laughing matter for either of them.

"How did you know?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't know, I assumed. But _now_ you've made it perfectly clear."

"_Dammit_," She cursed under her breath, covering her eyes with her hand. Eames said nothing, merely standing before here as she sorted out her thoughts.

"Take a deep breath, darling." He instructed, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Steady yourself."

Ariadne did as she was told, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

"There. Feel better now?"

She nodded in response, her eyes turned down to the floor. Eames, placed his other hand beneath her chin, tipping it up to meet her gaze.

"Why have you been dreaming about me, Ariadne?" He asked softly. She glanced to the side, biting her lip.

"I…don't know." She answered. "But you always just show up. It's like you're trying to send a message or something."

Eames paused at her words. He removed his hand from her shoulder, his heart hammering as he placed it on her back, pulling her closer to him.

By this point, it had to have been obvious to her what he was going to do, but she made no move to stop him. Instead, she remained silent, her eyelids fluttering shut in anticipation.

Bending down, Eames sealed Ariadne's mouth with his own. She flinched at the initial contact, but then pressed her lips into his, allowing them to part ever so slightly.

_God_, it was heaven. She tasted sweet, like peaches and vanilla. After looking without touching for so long…Eames could barely contain himself. He released his gentle grip on her chin, instead threading his fingers through her hair, holding her to the kiss. He had no idea what her exact reasoning was, but Ariadne didn't resist his actions. Instead, she carefully draped her arms over his shoulders.

He would have been content to kiss her forever, but reality hit him when he drew in a deep breath. She smelled like Arthur; spice and musk.

Eames pulled away, leaving Ariadne breathless. It was hard for him not to lean in again; her hair was lightly tousled, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from their kiss. Instead, he spoke.

"You're in love with Arthur." He stated. "You kissed me because you were curious."

He watched as she bit her lip, taking in his words. "You're right. That was…great, but I _am_ in love with Arthur."

"No hard feelings, love." He assured her. "I already knew that, and I kissed you anyways. Let's just leave it at that being the message that I was trying to send you."

Ariadne said nothing, but offered Eames a half-hearted smile. She had to have known by now how he felt about her.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, her smile fading. She stood on her toes, brushing her lips against his cheek. His heart felt as though it were collapsing, much like falling out of a dream.

Ariadne picked her bag up off of the floor, slinging it over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Eames." She said, pausing at the doorframe.

"The same, Ariadne."

True to his word, Arthur was waiting for her at the front door. She moved easily down the hallway, placing a hand on his shoulder to notify him of her presence. Eames watched as Arthur turned around, offering Ariadne a grin before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As he watched them join hands and walk to the car, one thing became painfully clear to Eames; it would never matter how many times he kissed her, or what he said to try and sway her. She belonged to the point man, and the forger didn't stand a chance.


End file.
